


The way to a man's heart goes through his stomach

by AlAngel



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Get Together, Insecure Clint, M/M, asking a guy out, blueberry muffins, can be pretty hard, date, mission, nastasha knows clint, nick fury knows phil, well little bit insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlAngel/pseuds/AlAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clint and Coulson wait out for a contact in a tiny pub they certainly didn't expect how the events develop from there. Fury didn't either, but he is definitely less surprised then Phil about the 'snogging'.</p>
<p>Or the one where both Natasha and Fury figured things between Clint and Phil out even before the two of them did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The way to a man's heart goes through his stomach

The way to a man's heart goes through his stomach

So. Kissing. Solid plan in there somewhere. Oh fuck, the whole thing would be so much easier if he weren’t so distracted. Because to hell with the blown cover and his miserable attempt at saving anything, this was a damn good kiss. But yeah whatever, Clint really, really needed to focus here. And just for the record if anyone were to even think about giving him shit later he would blame it all on Nat. It was totally her who taught him that public display of affection would make people, apparently even bad guys, uncomfortable enough to look away. Therefore it was most definitely all her fault!  
He was Agent Clint Barton of SHIELD, amazing marksman, but for the love of god even he couldn’t hold his breath for ever. Not even for a damn good kiss with his unbelievable hot handler. Coulson pulled away first, not even a little bit breathless or surprised. Well seeing Coulson surprised would be a bit much to ask anyway. At this point, after working with the guy for four years Clint was pretty positive that his handler was some kind of psychic ninja. Coulson doesn’t do surprised. So instead of stepping out of Clint’s personal space and giving him a bloody lecture about overstepping a million boundaries and his still pointless plan of distraction, he leaned in again. Not for another kiss, Clint wasn’t that lucky. Instead Coulson leaned in like he was to smell Clint’s neck. The archer could feel Coulson’s warm breath steady just beneath his ear. Oh god, this was it. He always knew he’d probably die with Coulson’s voice in his ear. But to be honest Clint imagined it more over the com link and him doing something stupid, yet heroic to save the day. Not the whole I finally kissed him after months of pining (looking! Clint meant looking. He’s an agent if SHIELD, he’s cool, he’s smooth, he doesn’t pine. Never), just to feel his breath on my skin, before getting shot in a dodgy pub in hell-this-place-doesn’t-even-have-more-then-ten-houses-why-does-it-even-need-a-name, somewhere 103 car minutes outside of New York. Probably just his luck.  
“If kissing me is your best plan of escape, SHIELD pays you way too much.” Clint heard the words while he didn’t hear them. Funnily enough Coulson was still hiding his face in his neck. And Clint would bet good money that to everyone else in this pub (the elderly guy with his pint and the fishing rod; the waitress/summer-break-temp with the smart phone and the grumpy looking, highly armed bar tender) it looked like Coulson was about to whisper seductive nonsense. Coulson was just that good hat his job –which Clint found just a little bit (read: extremely) hot.  
“Every plan is better than getting shot by that gorilla behind the bar.” Clint hissed back, when Coulson just slightly moved away from his neck. He turned and lifted Coulson’s chin carefully, looking deeply (and hopefully just pining enough for it to be a very good act) into the guys eyes. “I bet he’s not even a real bar tender – those drinks sucked.”  
“Focus, Agent.”  
“Now you just sound like the voice in my head.”  
“Follow my lead and we might live, so you can keep listening to that voice in that crazy head of yours.”  
Clint just blinked to signalize his unspoken agreement. If Coulson had a plan, they had a pretty good chance of actually getting out of here. Because while an armed bar tender was not a good sign it wasn’t the end of the world. But where one armed man was there tended to be more. Especially when two agents where still sitting around in a dodgy pub when their contact was supposed to show like an hour prior. Suspicious and troubling didn’t even start to cover that.  
“Want to take this some other place… baby?” And oh bloody hell Coulson even bat his fucking eyelashes seductively. Clint felt his knees getting a little unsteady, while a good amount of his blood decided to go somewhere south. Kissing was one of the worst things Nat ever taught him (oh great, now that sounded wrong too. He was talking of distraction techniques, for goodness sake!).  
“Thought you’d never ask.” Clint tried to at least keep his voice from being embarrassingly enthusiastic, while still sounding more than happy about the offer. They were out of their little pub corner seats only seconds later, heading for the bathroom. And if Clint used that to let his hand sink a little lower on Coulson back than strictly necessary to make it convincing no one was to give him shit about that too. This was still all on Nat.

***

“So the two of you snuck out the fucking bathroom window like a couple of teenagers?”  
“Yes, s-“That’s as far as Phil was getting before Barton started to giggle beside him. This debriefing was definitely going to be hell.  
“Technically we climbed out, like last minute before the bar tender slash Agent Gorilla face stormed in behind us to kill us off possibly very painful and…“  
“Thank you, Barton, I really look forward to your colourful-as-always report. Now get out.”  
Coulson just glared at the other Agent while Fury dismissed them. He had to admit that their escape was improvised and narrow, while still kind of smooth, but really, why can’t the other man ever once in a while just shut up and get over his ego?  
“Agent Coulson, a word.”  
“Aww why does he always get to hang out with you, Director? And I always thought I was your favourite.” Barton winked at Phil, pulled out his tongue at Fury, who just rolled his one eye.  
“Phil’s my favourite. Now. Get. Out.” Clint didn’t need to be told again.  
“I’m flattered, sir.” Dead-panned the agent as soon as the door closed.  
“We do both know I’d gone mad years ago dealing with these kids on my own.”  
“Is this your way of subtly telling me I get them in the divorce?”  
“Why is Barton’s mission comment slash mission report, since we both know he’s not going to write a single word more, a two hundred word summary of the two of you ‘snogging’ and making a break for it to the bathroom…’baby’?”  
Phil Coulson was a top secret agent/’badass ninja spy’ (according to Barton) and Fury’s favourite for a reason. That being said it was still pretty damn fucking close that he would have blushed then and there. Because the whole ‘baby’ and narrow escape through pretend make-out session was totally an accident. He did plan for it to go there. I hadn’t even been an option if Clint… Barton… hadn’t started it.  
“PDA, best distraction in the book, sir.”  
“You’re spending too much time with Agent Romanov.”  
“I’m her handler, thanks to you by the way. I can’t help spending time with her.”  
“It’s thanks to her scarring of every other handler we have and you know exactly what I meant.”  
“Yes, sir. I do…”   
“It was one armed bartender. I’m not complaining since both of you got out alive. But what the hell? One armed bartender and the two of you suddenly suck faces as cover? That’s just not you, Phil.”  
“There could have been back-up outside. Our contact didn’t show up. The guy was armed. We had to assume someone sold us out.” Phil knew he was deflecting. As far as he had assessed the situation before Clint’s lips touched his, there was no obvious back-up outside, the bartender was only lightly armed (small gun, couple of knives and whatever else a bartender could use as weapons (Coulson knew from his own experience that bottle openers could be used quite creatively if things got desperate)).  
“I’ll make a note in your file that kissing your specialist is apparently the last thing you wanted to do on this planet.”  
“You do that and I tell Hill that it was you who scared off her online boyfriend because she used the work laptop to message him. I’m sure she’ll be happy to know. Little mad at you, but eternally grateful to me for telling her…”  
“You’re blackmailing me, Agent Coulson?” Fury raised one eyebrow. A small amused sparkle at corner of his eyes. Both of them would deny this conversation had ever happened.  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Go and write your mission report.” Fury smirked. “Dismissed.”

***

“How pissed off is our favourite pirate?”  
Clint… Baton, damn it… was waiting just outside of Fury’s office. He was leaning against the wall of the empty corridor, big smirk on his face.  
“Pirate jokes right in front of his office? Do you have a death wish today?” Phil groaned. Because at the end of the day he would be the one dealing with the paperwork of Fury killing one of their best marksman – And the Director was way too creative and cruel for a simple shot in the head. So while worth watching the paperwork would just not be worth it. And that was only Phil’s objective assessment, leaving out his long surprised personal feelings about the sniper.   
“That’s what I get for waiting up for you… honey? Come on, Coulson. We made it out of that shitty pub – unharmed by the way- and we didn’t get eaten alive just now by Jack Sparrow’s eye-patched friend. How about celebrating? Dinner? Drinks?”  
“How about you do that mission report said eye-patched friend asked for?”  
“How’s that celebrating now? You know, I was thinking maybe Italian? Remember that time in Florence with that arms dealer we had to take out? Great pizza that night. Liked the whole candles thing too. I was thinking we should do that again… sometime… Celebrating and… stuff”  
Coulson’s inside did a funny thing at the mention of said evening in Florence. It had been a great evening. Easy chatter, good food and a waitress who thought they were on date (which none of them confirmed, but didn’t deny either, especially when she got them a huge ice-cream dessert with two spoons on the house).  
“I have to wrap up our mission report.” With that Coulson started to rush off. Because hey unfair. Clint… Barton for god’s sake… didn’t get to remind him of that time. Especially not hours after kissing him. Because while he might still look like the unflappable Agent Coulson (god, right now he sort of more hoped that he still look professional like that), he was also Phil Coulson who had a major crush on his asset which was a huge deal and kind of a problem. Which made getting away from said asset seem like a fucking great plan right now. “I don’t suppose you want to help with that?”

****

“He said no.”  
“To what exactly?”   
Natasha was Clint’s best friend and an awesome super spy. Sometimes he even thought she was reading his thoughts. But then he remembered that she was his best friend and a super spy. That actually explained a lot. Especially that she wouldn’t even need to ask him who ‘say no’. She probably heard it out in his voice or saw some tiny muscle in his face twitch. As much as he hated it in his job, he had his give-ways. The only thing the saved his life a couple of times in this job was that Nat was the only one who could really read them. Coulson was a close second. But luckily not as good or he would have figured his crush out years ago.  
“A date. Dinner and/or drinks.”  
They were sparing in the gym. It was hours after Clint had gotten out of the meeting with Fury and Coulson. His first instinct after being turned down was running. He settle for a close second and walk to the range. While shooting for a couple of hours and sorting through his thoughts and feelings Nat found him there. She might not be the typical best friend normal people had. But since Clint and the world he lived in (one word: a pirate/boss who would send him to kill drug deals, kidnappers or on one memorable occasion a mad scientist with fucking flying robot fish) weren’t normal, he happily settle with a friend who offers a spar as a possibility to let off steam and talk.  
“Did you at any point mention the word ‘date’?”  
“Well… no. That would… be dumb. Do normal people really say ‘let’s go on a date’? I thought you had to be more subtle, more impressive. Just asking seems lame.”  
“Normal people don’t ask out Phil Coulson who is just as oblivious as you.”  
“I mean if you call it ‘date’ right from the start how would you step back when it goes to hell?”  
“Your date wouldn’t go to hell.” Over the years Natasha had gotten really good at reading between he lines of what Clint was saying and what he was saying. That was part of the reason why she was clearly his best friend.  
“I was more of a general question.”  
“No it wasn’t.” And she was never mislead or fooled by any of the bullshit Clint talked. And Clint could talk a lot and fast when he started to get defensive or when he just started to make excuses. He learned, from the best, that sometimes you could just mouth your way out of a situation.  
“No it wasn’t.” Clint sighed. “Seriously Nat. What if he actually agrees and I screw it up? I’m good at screwing things up.”  
“You’re good at shooting things. You’re bad at asking Coulson out. Screwing things up is not on the list.”  
“But…”  
“Just do both of you a favour and use the exact word ‘date’ next time.”

****

When Phil lifted his gaze from the laptop screen his eyes fell on a little plate. A plate. Right next to him on his desk. And he had no clue where the hell it would come from. Strange. And a bit unsettling. Who the fuck should be able to sneak up on him?  
Looking at the plate she saw a sandwich (ham and cheese) and a blueberry muffin. It was all set on one of the boring white plates only SHIELD canteen would use – they even had their logo imprinted on the bottoms to make it clear that the canteen budget was rather spent on own plates than an increase in the food quality. But the sandwich didn’t look half as bad and the muffin looked amazing (way too nice for canteen food). Mysterious, indeed.  
Coulson was about to invest a bit more in the sandwich-muffin case when he saw a purple sticky note attached to it. His stomach grumbled. Apparently it was dinner time (a quick gaze at his watch told him past dinner time even) and he probably should actually stop for a minute or ten and eat. So Coulson unpinned the sticky note and read it, a little smile creeping in his lips.  
‘You should still eat. The muffins from the shop across the road (apparently our canteen doesn’t do yummy food).’  
There was no signature, but a little arrow painted where you’d normally be looking for it.  
And so Phil Coulson took even a fifteen minute break to have an absolutely fantastic dinner and he if couldn’t stop smiling the entire time (and most of the back to work time) no one needed to know that.

****

“Thank you for the food, Barton. I really appreciated it.” Coulson’s eyes were still glued to some folder, but Clint didn’t miss the slight twitch in the corners of the man’s mouth. Gorgeous mouth by the way. One Clint would really really like to kiss…  
“You’re welcome, sir. Thought you could do with something to eat while doing my paperwork for me.”  
“Don’t remind me or I’ll make you fill it out yourself one day.” Clint was pretty sure Coulson was fighting a full on grin right now. His eyes were still on the paper but they sparkled like they only did when it was just Coulson and Clint ‘hanging out’ (or how ever else one would call all the time Clint spends lingering in Coulson’s office, doing nothing but distracting the guy from working or practising his aim by throwing a table tennis ball in the most absurd way into a little plastic cup).  
“How about bribery? I could get you more muffins…”  
“Did you really get it just across the street? I didn’t even know there was a coffee shop…” Still no looking up. But his eyes moved slower over the lines of the form. His attention certainly shifted a bit more Clint’s way.  
“It’s more like a bakery-café-coffee-shop thing. And it’s tiny. Cute little tables and the best muffins in the whole area.” And it’s the perfect place for a in between office hours date. But of course he wouldn’t say that aloud.  
“Sounds lovely.”  
“You know what?” Suddenly an idea struck Clint. What did I just think? Perfect date place. He could work with that.  
“A guessing game it is. Let’s see… I know who has a session with the new junior agents in about 8 minutes.”  
“Are you free for lunch?” Coulson seemed surprised from the change of subject. He even paused in his writing.   
“What?”  
“You. Lunch time. Any chance you can get away from those papers?”  
“I…” Clint watched the other men closely. There were a lot of emotions flickering through his eyes. Sadly nothing stayed there long enough for Clint to pin it. But Coulson was defiantly debating something with himself. “I might be able to get an hour or so free.”  
“Great. I show you the shop!”  
“Do you need me to do more of your paperwork?” Coulson seemed honestly confused as Clint told him about his brilliant lunch plans. Huh.  
“Nah. I was more thinking about…” It was now or never and Clint knew so. He still saw a bit of confusion on Coulson’s face, but now also a bit of curiosity. And if that wasn’t a big give away! Coulson would never let him see any emotion on his face if he didn’t trust Clint. And if he trusted Clint enough to be curious as way to why Clint would ask him about a lunch time coffee shop meeting there was a slight chance… “A date.”  
“A coffee date?”  
“Well I was thinking let’s start from there and work our way up to dinner? Shit no, should have known. You’re more of a dinner first date guy. I can do that. How’s tonight? Too short notice, you probably won’t be free. How’s Friday? Friday seems like a great day…”  
“Set the location aside for a second. You want to go out? With me?” The confusion was back more prominent, but the curiosity gave way to something like hope, happiness, something sparkling in Coulson’s eyes anyway.  
“That’s kind of why I’m asking, yeah.” Clint tried a cocky smile. Keep calm and get a date or whatever. Just stay calm.  
“Okay.” Phil was looking up and straight into Clint’s eyes. The spark from his eyes moved and light up his whole face. Even his lips were in a defiantly more brilliant smile than Clint ever saw on his face.  
“Okay for…”  
“For going out. To coffee, dinner, movies. You choose.”  
“Coffee? In” Clint looked up at Coulson’s office clock, “2 hours’ time after I kick some junior agents’ asses?”  
“Sounds great.” A brief not from Coul… Phil. They had a date. He could be Phil now. For now at least in his head.  
“It’s a date then.”  
“A date it is.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> So my first try at the pair. Hope you liked it. Thanks for reading. Leave a comment (especially if you find mistakes. I haven't got a beta yet). Thanks <3


End file.
